


The Collective Affairs

by helloalexwinn



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Drabble, Drabbles & Vignettes, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloalexwinn/pseuds/helloalexwinn
Summary: A compilation of drabbles and vignettes.





	1. The Lonely Affair

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a collection of short stories centering on these characters. Length, content, everything will vary depending on mood and inspiration. As of right now, I don't have a set schedule for when I'll be posting, so please bear with me. I hope to have one soon.
> 
> If anyone has any prompts that they'd like to see me attempt, feel free to leave them in the comments or message me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

After Rome, Gaby learns that the life of a spy isn’t always thrilling. Her days stop being flirtatious glances and coy remarks and start being long hours of listening and staying still. It wouldn’t be half as bad if Illya or Napoleon were here with her, because then she wouldn’t feel as alone as she currently does, but they’ve got their own agencies to report to, leaving Gaby to her own devices.

She hates it.

Sometimes, during those lulls when nobody is saying anything valuable, she wonders if she’d think differently had she not been paired with the two men first. If she’d been assigned other missions instead of crammed into that garage for two years, would she mind the dullness? Waverly may have found her first, but it was Napoleon who took her by the hand, Illya hot on their heels, and introduced her to the thrill of the shadows. Now, anything that wasn’t going as fast as one of her cars wasn’t going fast enough.

Gaby eyes the calendar. Four more days and Napoleon will be back from the States. Six, and Illya will be back from Moscow. She forces herself back to the wiretap.

She can make it.


	2. The Paper Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note for anyone who hasn't looked at the comments: these prompts will be mostly unrelated, but if they are, I'll mark them accordingly.
> 
> This is nauseatingly cute. Don't be surprised if the next one is angsty.
> 
> Illya/Gaby

“What,” Illya said, pausing on the words for emphasis, “is this?”

Across the room, folded into a chair like a cat, Gaby shrugged. “It’s a paper crane.”

Illya nodded, staring at the tiny folded object. “I see that,” he said, “but what is it doing here?”

“Why not?” Gaby countered, shrugging again. “It’s a piece of paper, Illya. I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

Illya frowned. “I’m not upset,” he mumbled, “but, confused.”

The entire day had been quite confusing, if Illya was being perfectly honest. The paper crane was not the only folded piece of paper he’d seen today — there’d been a paper rose on his desk this morning, guarded by a small army of paper creatures. At the time, he’d wondered if the Cowboy had found a new hobby and had mistakenly put those items on his desk instead of Gaby’s. He’d moved them to her desk and dismissed the oddity, only to find them back again after a meeting. He’d stared at them like he did his chessboard, trying to solve the problem of them. He’d left them there when he’d come up blank.

Solo later handing him a pair of tickets and saying, “You’re welcome,” hadn’t cleared up any of the confusion either.

“Do you not like it?” Illya blinked, turning back to Gaby. Her shoulders were set back and her chin tilted up, defiant as always, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes.

He shrugged. “It is piece of paper,” he said. “It is harmless.”

Gaby frowned, the space between her brows crunching. “Illya,” she said slowly, “do you know what day it is?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, closing the space between them and taking her hands. “Our anniversary.” He tilted his head. “I still do not understand the crane.”

A smile stretched across her face. “It’s tradition,” she said. “First anniversary is a paper gift. So I made you some paper animals to put around the apartment and your desk.”

Illya blinked. He pulled the tickets out of his pockets. “Is that why Cowboy gave me these?”

Gaby nodded and snatched the tickets. “A night at the ballet. Thank you very much, Napoleon.”

“Do not call him Napoleon,” Illya muttered. “Please.”

Gaby grinned. “You have no reason to be jealous,” she said. “Although, if he got these, that means you didn’t get me anything.”

Illya scoffed. “Of course I did.” He pulled a neatly folded handkerchief out of a pocket in his coat. “In Russia, first anniversary is celebrated with calico. If you want something paper—”

“Never,” Gaby cut him, taking the handkerchief. It was a simple white with blue trimming, and her initials engraved in orange on a corner. “It’s beautiful, Illya. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Of course, chop shop girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a couple sites that said the Russian tradition was printed cloth for the first anniversary instead of paper, but if anyone knows for certain that I’m wrong, please let me know and I’ll rewrite the story accordingly.


	3. The Past Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.

He doesn’t leave anything behind.

Illya is meticulous, refined in a way Gaby could only dream of. He’s careful in everything he does, a strong believer in leaving as little to chance as possible. So she isn’t particularly surprised that when he packs — when he leaves — there is no evidence to prove he existed at all.

She wishes he’d left something, even out of cruelty.

But this is its own form of cruelty, a sudden and entire lack of him when she’d grown so accustomed to him everywhere. She knows their time together was real, but every night that passes makes her wonder what parts she dreamt. Was their first kiss by a fountain or in a hotel room? Had they ever declared their love for one another or were their touches enough? Did they end in shouts and screams, or strained silence?

It isn’t easy to forget him, but it’s difficult to remember them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter will have more, eventually.


	4. The Silver Screen Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just me having a bit of fun, because I'm bored and cooped up in my apartment.

Napoleon wasn't sure how they agreed on this.

“Are you sure about this, Cowboy?”

Apparently, neither was Illya.

They needed to do something after getting kicked out of headquarters — Gaby’s mission had taken a turn for the worse and Napoleon and Illya’s reactions hadn’t been exactly helpful, leading to Waverly kicking them out until further notice. He had half a mind to go book a flight and try to find Gaby off the books, but her mission was sensitive and Napoleon didn’t want to risk compromising her.

He was fairly certain Illya had come to the same conclusion, which meant they needed a distraction.

“Why not, Peril? We need to do something, otherwise we’ll drink ourselves to death or kill each other.”

Enter Kubrick.

Napoleon didn’t watch films often — the life of a spy was fast paced and didn’t include a lot of down time, and typically that time was spent prepping and resting — but he’d seen enough to know that he enjoyed the experience. It was nice to sit in a theatre for two hours and focus on something that wasn’t life threatening. His life often felt like a movie, so it was nice to see others thrown into perilous situations.

It made him feel a bit like an action hero sometimes, which was rather fun to play.

“Yes, but this film?”

This film wasn’t action. It was a film about a war, the war they were currently waging, the one that had originally pitted them against each other. But it was satire — or, he’d heard that at least — and surely even the Red Peril himself could take a joke.

Napoleon shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

* * *

He could never be certain, but Napoleon thought he saw Illya smile faintly once or twice during the film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film is Dr. Strangelove (1964) if anyone was uncertain. I think these two watching it would be hilarious, and if they ever did another UNCLE film, I’d so be down for Napoleon and Illya watching Dr. Strangelove.
> 
> I’d also like to point out that I know if something like this did happen — Gaby’s mission going sideways — the boys would be gone, sanctioned or not. But I really wanted to write this scenario.


	5. The Pearl Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all fun and no seriousness whatsoever and that’s okay. Plus it’s mostly dialogue which is always fun to write.

Gaby doesn’t let him get two steps in the door before she starts her interrogation.

“Who’s Pearl?” she asks innocently, a nail filer in hand, scraping delicately along the edge of her nails. “And why do you see her every three months?”

Napoleon blinks, briefcase hovering over the desk, not yet set down. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, Solo,” Gaby says, pointing the nail file at him. “Who’s Pearl?”

“She,” Napoleon says, shaking his head, “is none of your concern.”

“Is she your mother?”

Napoleon frowns but doesn’t answer. Gaby smirks.

“Could I come along? I’d love to meet her.”

“That,” Napoleon says, eyeing Gaby, “would be a terrible idea.”

“Maybe for you,” Gaby says, shrugging innocently, “but isn’t it fair Illya and I know more about our partner?”

“You both know everything you need to know about me.”

“And you know so much extra about us.”

“You were our target,” Napoleon says. He tilts his head. “Come to think about it, the Red Peril probably knows more about me than you do.”

Gaby gasps, offended. “We’ll see about that,” she says, strutting towards the door. “I’m sure Pearl has plenty of stories she’d love to share.”

* * *

“Gaby will not stop talking about this Pearl,” Illya says when Napoleon steps onto the elevator. “You will not tell her it is dentist appointment?”

Napoleon grins and shook his head. “At this point, it’s too much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could’ve been about actual pearls, but I had a dentist appointment.


	6. The Present Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, a lot has been happening personally that's really thrown my life out of rhythm. But hopefully now I'll be able to get back into the swing of things.

She’s spoiled.

Napoleon is deceptively good in the kitchen, creating things she’s never dreamed of with spices she’s only ever heard of in longing tones. Sometimes he has a cookbook out and is following the instructions, measuring everything to the exact amount. Other times, he does it without glancing at anything, everything measured in approximates and thereabouts. She often wonders if those meals, the one where the ingredients fall together with no particular precision are ones from his childhood, recipes he learned from his family. Gaby doesn’t ask, but they taste homelier, as if they were made with love and memories and longing.

He’s making one of those meals today. It’s an unspoken agreement that these types of meals are reserved for bad times.

Gaby wonders how many of these meals Napoleon’s made since _he_ left.

They don’t talk about his departure. Gaby isn’t sure which of them knew first that he’d be leaving, or who’d had the larger role to play. Gaby suspects, just this once, she knew before Napoleon. But Napoleon was nothing if not an actor, so it was entirely possible he’d known long before her, and his role had been far more subtle than her explosive one.

Regardless, he was gone and they’d both played a part.

It takes the entire meal for Gaby to work up the courage to ask Napoleon about it. Even then, it’s a vague question, a simple one. There’s an unspoken agreement between them, a promise of mutual guilt. She can’t fully violate it without isolating Napoleon, and she could not handle that loss as well. But she needs to know one thing more than any other, and the only person who can give her an answer is Napoleon.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Napoleon frowns, but otherwise remains still. “I wish I knew,” he says eventually, his words soft. “I really wish I did.”

Gaby understands this for the real answer underneath.

No. No, he would not.


	8. The Pulp Affair

When Illya had called and said there was a serious problem, Napoleon had expected the worst. A serious problem meant one of them was incapacitated in one way. A serious problem meant the other didn’t know what to do, which was unfathomable, because between Illya and Gaby, one of them always knew what to do. A serious problem was not a joke.

Except when it was.

“Am I missing something?” Napoleon asked, glancing between his colleagues. Illya stood at his side, shoulders back, eyes narrow. He was doing his intimidation pose, except it was directed at Gaby this time, instead of at the person leering at Gaby. Gaby, who was curled up on the couch, the pages of a magazine in her hand. Except, it wasn’t the normal type of magazine, the kind that showed off the latest fashions. It was one he’d given her, in fact.

“Do you not see what she is reading?” Illya asked, making a quiet noise in the back of his throat that reminded Napoleon of when they’d first met, eyeing each other across the table, painfully aware of how tight the leashes around their necks were.

“Yes,” he drawled. “But I don’t see the crisis.”

“They are horror stories,” Illya said, as if this was something terrible.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

Gaby snorted. “Illya thinks they’re going to give me nightmares,” she said, not looking up. “He wants you to take back your pulp magazine so I won’t have any.”

Napoleon laughed. Illya scoffed.

“This is no joke, Cowboy.”

“Peril, we’ve seen things worse than any person could ever dream of writing. They’re just stories.”

“Baba Yaga is story,” Illya said, scowling. “That does not mean we do not tell her story to frighten children.”

“Are you calling me a child?” Gaby asked, though there wasn’t any edge to her voice. She sounded terribly amused by the idea.

“When you cannot sleep in middle of night, know that I tried to stop this,” he stalked towards the kitchen, knowing he would find no allies. “And make sure to wake Cowboy.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Napoleon said. He eyed Gaby. “They scare you that much?”

“I may or may not have woken last night from a dream about Cthulu,” she said, chin tilted high. “And I may or may not have woken Illya.”

Napoleon snorted. “Well, I’ll be expecting your call late tonight, then.”

* * *

 

She did call, though they both agreed to never mention it to Illya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally it was Illya reading Carrie, but it’s more fun if Gaby’s the one reading the scary stories.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you leave a comment, prompt, or kudos, I'll love you even more!


End file.
